


Puzzle

by kafee



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Drabble Series, F/M, FMA!verse, I'm Messing With The Tags, I'm Sorry, Non-Chronological, Platonic Romance, Some OOC For The Sake Of The Plot, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5606098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafee/pseuds/kafee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A story told in bits and pieces.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. #01. Brand

**Author's Note:**

> Well... I just wanted to post something for the new year since the last time I posted something was in... hum... so happy new year everyone!
> 
> I wrote the first chapter some time around last year for an anonymous prompt on chrobinprompts tumblr, just some drabble that wasn't supposed to have a follow-up but the plot never left my mind and I wanted to post something for 2016 and so I posted this. Expect irregular updates and absurd plot since I haven't been much into Fire Emblem lately.
> 
> As usual, I don't own Fire Emblem Awakening and English isn't my first language.

She wore white, immaculate gloves. 

They covered her hands like a second skin, protected her from the harm she put them through—from lightning a place to thunder a city, or from sparking a heartbeat to ignite a man to death. Her hands were her weapons, her gloves the sheath of her magic. They were bathed in dust and blood, tainted in the blackness of the world just like the color of her hair, silk and coal black.

Chrom had never seen beneath her gloves. There was this thing about her—no matter the situation, no matter the job he wanted her to fulfill, Robin always wore her gloves, like a gentleman wearing a tie. She never removed them and he had never seen her do so when she was with him and the time when he saw her nude, pearls of water rolling on her skin when he came in the bathroom of his team’s secret cottage, the steam had been too much opaque for him to see anything but he was certain she wore none, for her first reaction to his unexpected presence had not been to cover her body but her hand. The left one.

After that event which resulted to a nosebleed and a black eye, Chrom had not tried to find out what could lay beneath her gloves. That was not his place to pry and as she was the person he trusted the most, the Lodestar Colonel respected her privacy and the secrets that surrounded her like poison in the air.

But he should have known better, should have listened to Frederick’s advices more before he was sent to the Longfort wall to defend the country from the Feroxi invader; he should have given more thought when they told him how strange it was for the infamous Grandmaster Alchemist to have made an official request to the Führer to be under his command two years ago.

Because beneath her leather gloves shredded apart by the enemy’s foreign alchemy, Chrom recognized it among hundreds, thousands even despite the ache that seemed to spread all over his body and which made his blood burn his head. He would never forget it, could never for the design was so peculiar and so foreign to their culture.

That tattoo on her left hand, laying on the back of her hand like a noble crest, proud and regal. He had imprinted this symbol in his mind, and had never forgotten it.

The brand of the Homunculi.

His widened eyes met hers, and Chrom had never seen Robin so terrified.

“Colo—Chrom! This isn’t what you think, Sir—!”

But he was already falling.


	2. #02. Facts

Robin became the youngest State Alchemist thirteen years ago, at age twelve. After passing the written examination which consisted of a series of questions about Ylisse history and basic alchemy’s formulas as well as the psychological evaluation, she achieved her certification within the first minutes of the Pieces of Hundred’s tournament by performing a transmutation without a circle.

A genius, they all said, from the officials present during the competition to the Führer Walhart the Conqueror. Her performance had been exceptional, her victory absolute. At that time, she was known as the Child Alchemist, the only child to have ever become a State Alchemist—or dog of the military, as they were often called—but she only earned her codename later on.

Indeed, codenames were usually given on the day State Alchemists received their certificate by the Führer based on their unique alchemical skills and their personal traits, but the Führer only appointed her symbolic title seven months after she received her license, when she wonderfully planned the campaign against the Valmese troops in West Ylisse which ended up with the death of all the Valmese soldiers with no casualties on their part. An absolute Ylissean victory.

And so the Führer gave her the title of the Grandmaster Alchemist, at age thirteen.

However, her glorious days as the Grandmaster Alchemist happened eight years ago, when Führer Walhart issued Order #4111, a military decree in which sent State Alchemists to the front lines during the Plegia Civil War as human weapons and in which Robin had refused to obey.

She however participated in planning all the strategies to crush the Plegian forces with the focus of zero killing—she did not want to kill civilians, but only wished to kill their fighting spirit and while her strategies had been all successful, in the end, it did not stop the State Alchemists on the front to kill the Plegian civilians even when they had surrendered, as were the orders of the Führer. The civil war lasted three years and ended three weeks after Order #4111 had been issued. Robin had been seventeen at that time, and she was already a hero to the Ylissean.

Moreover, she had never been punished for having officially disobeyed the Führer’s orders. What she had done in the rear had led to the Plegian massacre and she had, in spite of herself, actually followed the Führer’s orders.

Grandmaster Robin had sinned more than one could possibly have thought, killed more than saved, and even when the country was not in war, there was no peace in the mind of a murderer.


	3. #03. Meeting

She was friendly and kind, Chrom had been told, but she could create an aura around her that made her unapproachable, as if the Longfort wall was separating her from other beings. The walls she built around her were strong and tall, but she had annihilated them so easily when she caught him staring at her openly, and she smiled pleasantly at him when she met his gaze.

Out of courtesy with a certain reluctance he hid behind his charming mask, he made the first move, approaching her in slow steps and polite, but not hypocrite smile. She saluted him when he was before her, perfect and unwavering. Chrom could not help but notice, at arm’s length with the well-known Grandmaster Alchemist that she was not dressed up as it was stipulated in the invitation they had received to attend the ball organized by the military in honor of the peace treaty recently signed between Ylisse and Valm; she was wearing her blue uniform, even though she was an esteemed guest and not a soldier stationed in the reception hall.

“Major,” Chrom lifted his hand, and she was at ease the second after. “I believe it’s the first time we meet, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Colonel.” Robin smiled faintly. “But I heard many stories about you, Sir.”

It brought him a light smile on the lips. “Not bad stories, I hope?”

“They were all great stories about you, Sir. Miss Emmeryn was a great storyteller.”

“You met my sister?” Chrom arched an eyebrow. He did not like to talk about his late sister, too kind and gone too soon to join the dead, especially to someone he did not know particularly. “I wasn’t aware of that fact.”

Robin nodded slowly, as if to remember her late encounter with the woman. “At the Plegia war,” she supplied. “She tended my wounds when a Plegian attempted to kill me in my tent. She was very kind.”

“She was,” he agreed. “Emm didn’t deserve to die. She was only treating the injured ones. A civilian caught in a crossfire,” he added in a faraway voice. “She didn’t kill anyone. If anything, I should've been the one to die. I killed so many people in this war.”

“Those were orders from the Führer, Colonel.” Robin spoke in a soft voice, her gaze distant. “Any soldier stationed in Plegia had killed someone. A father, a mother, a brother, a child even. War creates killers, Colonel, but the Plegia war has created monsters.”

He looked at her then, at her face veiled in a sorrowful chagrin, at her hands covered in white gloves clutched in tiny fists behind her back. She did not look like she was twenty-one, like she was only three years younger than him. She looked older, probably because she had experienced more than one could possibly have in one lifetime and yet she looked so young too, a creamy visage with delicate features, as if she had never known harsh times.

Except that she had.

“I must take my leave, Colonel,” she eventually said, looking back at him with a curve of a smile on her lips, “I had a great time talking to you. I look forward to see you again, Sir.”

Her smile was warm, but it felt like it was made of glass—like it could shatter in any second.


	4. #04. Recipe

“Major, fetch these items and bring them to Sully’s place,” Chrom commanded Robin, holding out a folded paper in his hand.

The black-haired woman took the paper, unfolded it and quickly read the message that was written inside. She then looked up at him as she burned down the notes with a snap of her fingers.

“Madam Candy? Are you sure it’s wise to contact her when the Führer is watching you?”

“I need her services,” he replied simply, “and you and I both know why no one will suspect anything. Even the Führer,” he emphasized.

Indeed, Robin agreed, _La Cerise_ was a hostess bar—but she preferred the innocent term of restaurant—well-known among the Ylissean soldiers and located in the red streets of Ylisstol, a few blocks from the Military Headquarters. Though it was well-known among the soldiers, not many patronized the bar publicly and the Lodestar Colonel just happened to be one of their most faithful and regular customers. Everyone knew that, from bottom to top ranks in the military but no one ever made a rude comment about his nights spent at _La Cerise_ though Robin sometimes did hear rumors about his nocturne debauchery.

Which, Robin could attest, were untrue.

Yet the Colonel never denied any rumor he may have heard.

Over the two years she had served him, Robin had spent many times at _La Cerise_ , watching over her boss as alcohol flooded his mind and could declare that while babysitting was not exactly her job, she found the place quite pleasant. The women parading in velvet and silky clothes were as beautiful as untouchable, and the meals were quite delicious, too.

They were quite fond of her—the girls at the bar as well as Madam Candy who affectionately called her Bubbles and Robin shared the same feelings. She adored them. They were her only feminine company in Ylisstol and probably the only female acquaintances she had as well. In a world dominated by men, Robin did not know many women, and had female friends even less.

Guess she was going out socializing tonight.

“When will you need these, Colonel?”

“Tonight. I’ve already contacted Sully; she knows we’re staying for the night. We’ll proceed tomorrow at dawn.”

She nodded her head. “Should I cook, Sir?”

“No, just prepare the stuffing. You’ll cook tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Sir.” Robin saluted him and was ready to leave the office but stopped suddenly when she was about to turn the door handle. She then turned over to ask Chrom, “How would you like your steak for tomorrow, Sir?”

He smirked.

“Charred.”


	5. #05. Funeral

She stood behind him even after the people around had left, one by one, and it was only when the sun had set and the wind had grown cold that she decided it was time to wake him from his numb state.

“Colonel.” Robin called gently, as if she was waking him up from his sleep.

“Vaike,” Chrom spoke at last, his voice distant. “Did you know him, Major?”

She was still facing his back and from the way he was clutching his fists, Robin knew he was not ready, to leave the graveyard or to mourn for his best friend, Robin supposed it was both. His death had been sudden and unexpected and then everything was going so fast and so mechanically that there wasn’t any time to fully grasp what happened only a week ago. Ever since they heard the news, Chrom had withdrawn into himself, smoking when he usually did not, staying overnight at work when the girls at _La Cerise_ should entertain him, writing and checking reports when she was usually the one to do it.

It was alarming to see him so passive, so stagnant when he was usually so vibrant and magnetic but mostly, it was just… sad.

She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing in the happy memories she had of him and sighed softly, deciding to entertain him—because it was only thing she could do for now.

“We were acquaintances,” she replied, “but I didn’t know him as well as you did, Sir.”

Robin remembered the blond-haired Brigadier General barging into their office many times uninvited and while Chrom always appeared irritated by his unwanted presence, he had never brushed him off, even if he sometimes—most of the time—came for trivial reasons. What she remembered most about him though, was the charming smile he always had on his face, warm and friendly.

“We were childhood friends and best friends,” he said, gazing at the grave full of white flowers. White chrysanthemums, Robin would later learn, because these were the flowers he gave to his sweetheart on their first date.  “And he was my brother-in-law, I suppose.”

Robin looked surprised. “I didn’t know Miss Lissa and Sir Vaike were married.”

“They weren’t, but Vaike wanted to propose soon—and then he died,” Chrom scowled, anger in his voice. “No,” his eyes flashed, “he was _murdered_.”

His body had been discovered at dawn in a public telephone booth and riddled with bullets. An ugly sight, Robin remembered, his death had certainly been painful. The bullets had not touched any vital point but he died from blood loss, his sufferings long and silent. He was murdered, yes, Robin thought, but the one who had inflicted him his wounds probably wanted to torture him to death.

He did not deserve to die, and certainly not like this.

“They weren’t here,” Robin suddenly said, remembering the two distinctive figures she had not seen during the funeral.

 _You didn’t tell them_ , was left unsaid.

“I couldn’t,” Chrom confirmed, “not when they just left the city to follow a lead in East Ylisse.”

“They’ll be angry and sad, Sir.” And for good measure, she added, “ _she_ will be furious.”

“I know,” he said softly, “but it’s for the best.”

Robin agreed—she did not want them around when Chrom would unleash his fury in the capital's streets.


End file.
